Pad Thai
“Prom is just a dance, it doesn’t really matter,” Big Sister says. “Besides, Mickey isn’t your boyfriend.”
“Hey Kiddo. Are you joining us for dinner? I'm making Pad Thai.” Don asks as if his offer of big food is enough to get me talking about what happened to my hair.
His overly golden curls are damp and matted; his cheeks are pink from steam, the smells of starchy noodles takes over the entire kitchen. I hear my dad in my head, I see him. He’s got nothing in his hands, no fancy noodle dinner. He’s hanging out. He hovers in his sister in law’s kitchen and floats around the steam and the copper pots where the prom dresses dangled a few hours ago. He watches all of us and as he swirls around through Ally’s cookware, his shorts drag on the pans and make them move centimeters. It seems no one but me notices. And then he does pull-ups from the place where the pans hang and his face turns the color of the fish sauce. Even with all his exertion, not one pot falls to the floor and his fingertips don’t budge even a speck of dust from the ceiling.
"I like that silver dress," G.D. says, "the one in Ally’s closet. It really brings out your eyes."
And then I tell him all about prom and what happened at Panic and Big Sister disappears.
“Hey Kiddo. Are you joining us for dinner? I'm making Pad Thai.” Don asks as if his offer of big food is enough to get me talking about what happened to my hair.
His overly golden curls are damp and matted; his cheeks are pink from steam, the smells of starchy noodles takes over the entire kitchen. I hear my dad in my head, I see him. He’s got nothing in his hands, no fancy noodle dinner. He’s hanging out. He hovers in his sister in law’s kitchen and floats around the steam and the copper pots where the prom dresses dangled a few hours ago. He watches all of us and as he swirls around through Ally’s cookware, his shorts drag on the pans and make them move centimeters. It seems no one but me notices. And then he does pull-ups from the place where the pans hang and his face turns the color of the fish sauce. Even with all his exertion, not one pot falls to the floor and his fingertips don’t budge even a speck of dust from the ceiling.
"I like that silver dress," G.D. says, "the one in Ally’s closet. It really brings out your eyes."
And then I tell him all about prom and what happened at Panic and Big Sister disappears.
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